


Easily Made, Easily Broken

by CobaltPaladin



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Action, Adventure, Character Tags To Be Added - Freeform, Exile, Friendship, Homophobia, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Monsters, Racism, Sexism, Slavery, The Surface World, The Underdark, Travel, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-18 23:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltPaladin/pseuds/CobaltPaladin
Summary: Brown sandcastles fall, crashing to the rainThe putrid odour of hatred expels from the groundThe sour fruit of man, becoming ever sweeterDrops to the new grass of hopeThe Nature renews itself slowly and graduallyBut the sandcastles rise once againThe natural order is a cycle. Man abuses Nature, and nature revolts. The land expels the remains of Man, and man returns.But now, a third party is involved.





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> A story that began as my D&D character's backstory, but I hope will escalate.

Two figures sit opposite each-other, chanting in a language long forgotten, a blue chalk circle separating them. The circle begins to glow as their chating grows louder and louder. A humming fills the stone-carved room, adding it's voice to the chanting. Sparks fly out of the circle, illuminating the rough-spun brown hoods over the figures heads. The sparks widen and lengthen, until whole bolts of lightning streak across the room, increasing the volume of the deafening cacophony. A gale-force wind blows away from the circle, but the figures remain adamant and unmoving. A third figure appears, bringing with them a dead sheep. It is placed in the center of the circle, and the entire room is filled with blue light, growing brighter and brighter, until one would almost be able to see the faces underneath the hoods. There is one final flash of blinding light, and the noise comes to a complete stop.

A dark blue dragon stands in the middle of the circle, his orange eyes contrasting against his glittering scales. The silence retains for one moment, and is then broken by the dragon's deep, booming voice. A voice like a thousand armies, a voice like a million thunderstorms. A voice like death itself.  
  
"For what reason have I been summoned?" Says the dragon. "And to an insufficient sacrifice, no less."  
  
One of the figures lifts their hood to reveal a handsome young man. His black Dark Elf skin only visible due to the dragon's inherent glow. The man shakes his head, seemingly to clear it, his white hair flipping about.  
  
"We did not mean to disrespect you, O Great Al'du'nax," he says, then turns around. He motions his hand towards the other two figures and says, "The sheep was merely to summon you."  
  
The two figures begin to make coughing and choking noises, buckling over and clawing at their throats, until they finally flop to the grey floor, dead.  
  
"Enjoy."

Approximately half an hour later, the dragon and the man sit opposite each-other, after the dragon had eaten the sheep and the two men.  
"Now," begins Al'du'nax, in his great, booming voice, "Why did you summon me to this vulgar realm?" The man in the cloak jumps in surprise.  
"Ah, yes," he says, "Forgive me. My name is Lannor Nazeth, I am a runecaster from the Qunila Tribe." Al'du'nax snorts, black smoke rising from his nostrils.  
"I could sense that much. I want to know why I am here. You've set up wards around this cave, trapping us both here. Sow what do you want. A draconic wish? Fame? Glory?" The great dragon moves his head closer to Lannor with every word, punctuating each sugggestion.  
"Actually, I wish to enchant my bloodline." Says Lannor, anticipation shining from his red eyes. "I want a sorcerous family." Al'du'nax eyes narrow slightly.  
"You have done your research, haven't you?" He says. "Well, I suppose it's an easy enough wish to grant in exchange for freedom."

~~~~~

And this, dear readers, is where our story begins. It is a tale of intrigue and mystery, of friendship and loyalty, and above all, a tale of belief in oneself.


	2. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first "real" chapter. Ralynn (Main Character) is exiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the last one 'cause now you're getting another!

Men and women swirl frantically around me, scrambling to get ready for the rally. I calmly weave through them all, recieving flashes of contempt from numerous pairs of red eyes. I'm not the most popular in the Qunila army, being the "least aggressive," though, as I've stated many times, I prefer to be thought of as reasonable. As we slowly make our way to the rally point, getting more and more ordered as we move, the alert bells begin ringing, warning the whole village of imminent danger. This is a regular occurnce in our tribe. We always seem to be "under atttack" by some "oppressers." What the people don't know, however, is that we are usually the ones starting whatever war it is that we happen to be in at the time. Nobody in the village heeds the alert anymore. A can finally hear the Supreme Leader, Elder Xornba, shouting out at the rally.  
"Th' filthy humans of Locria will opress no longer!" He shouts. "We, th' Qunila, ancient drow of the Underdark, will rise up! No longer will our sister tribes suffer from th' wrath of these supposed 'higher' races!" The army is cometely in the rally point now, in orderly lines, ranked top to bottom, highest to lowest. Elder Xornba's words hurt my head. I don't think anybody likes his bullishit, but they're also too scared to act upon it.   
"We will not break! We will conquer!" I decide that I am not too scared to act.  
"Hey, Oldie!" I yell. Xornba's eyes narrow, and his head whirls toward me. "What have humans ever done to us? the only people at fault here are the Qunila people! We are the only invaders!" The army begins to murmur. The Elder opens his mouth, and it only takes thre words to seal my fate.  
"Take him away." 

\-----

A gavel bangs on a wooden counter, the sound resonating through the room.  
"Then it is decided. You, Ralynn Nazeth, shall be exiled from this tribe, for the crime of high treason. From a soldier, no less. For shame." The judge bangs his gavel again. I stand up, shackles clinking.  
"Y'know," I say. "I heard that in Locria, the court gives fair trials. That their governments may have a seed of good intention in them. I only expressed my beliefs. Is that really a case of high treason?" The judge looks at me and simply says,   
"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me if I should continue this, because I've got a lot more coming and it'd be a shame if you didn't enjoy it.


End file.
